This is a seasonal piece about Christmas I wrote in the Scots vernacular.  I hope most readers can at least get the jist of it...(B->)

Oli

 

Happy birthday Christ! we wiss ye well,
Tho’ whit’s done in yer name we daurna tell,
Yer mony cannie wirds still resonate,
But a’ the modern pratticks only grate,
A million twinkly lichts shaw a’ the sins,
October’s whan the wuddrim a’ begins,
An’ fegs, till oorie Februar brings the bills,
Yer mass is but a maelstrom o’ oor ills,
Whit maks the puir yit puirer, dowfer yit?
Wha cannae wi’ thair fee fine praisants git?
Whit brings mair evil tae the warld than guid?
Had A the pouer tae cancel ‘taw a wid,
Whit turns oor plaisant weans tae greedy gryce?
Whit gars tae greet ilk douce man an’ his wife?
A thoosand adverteesments, baubled trees,
Auld Liz’s condescensions on TV,
(She shud haud her chaw for her ain brood,
Its langtimes sine thay makkit mither prood!)
Then gutsiness taks ower we stowe oor gabs,
Wi turkey, puddens, sweetmeats cake in slabs,
An’ whan its ower a’ that’s left is debt,
An’ muckle credit caird bills tae regret,
Wi Hogmanay an’ a’ it wild excesses,
The hangover the spleet-new year depresses,
A wiss a’d find a sonsie, mawsie hurcheon,
A’d sleep the whilie wi the couthie urchin!